we can only hold so much

I’d been on the verge of tears all day.
I didn’t know why, for the day before I’d felt fine.

But then, later, at the grocery store checkout, my bag of bulk lentils snagged on my shopping cart and exploded in a shower on the floor.
I lost it. Not there — no; I helped clean it up with calm if embarrassed presence.
It was when I got to my car, and climbed into the driver’s seat, my eyes welled and my throat felt sharp.

Everything just seemed so heavy.

The waste.

Disappointments.

Holiday exhaustion.

Back aches and wrist aches and eye aches.

The unimaginable, unbearable reality of more shootings, more wildfires, more environmental degradation, more trauma to our fellow beings, our fellow souls.

And then there was this:

I miss my parents.

Their absence always echoes loudest this time of year…

But maybe most piercing of all in my day-to-day:

My dog is getting old.

… and imagining her gone just then had me gulping sobs…

I sat there in my sorrow in my car in the parking lot and let it spill out.

We can only hold so much.

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. . . . . .

. . .

Real despondency for me is rare.
I used to let sadness overtake me more. But changing how I nourish myself in body and soul has made despair an infrequent visitor.
Indeed, my observation is that eating poorly (lots of sugar and processed foods) can trigger emotional roller-coasters.
I also tend to believe that one’s ego is the source of most of one’s suffering.
And that screen time in many way feeds ego time. Too much of others’ chatter hypes up the chatter in one’s own head.

What I also believe is that there’s nothing like being outside and breathing deeply of fresh, clean air to clear the mind and rejuvenate the spirit.

Yet I hadn’t been outside nearly enough recently. My Sweet Pup (now 11.5 yrs) has a gimpy leg, so our daily walks have had to be shortened to just a fraction of what they used to be.

I needed a long walk in fresh air.I needed no screens.I needed no consumerism, no holiday thrumming.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

Two days later, I set out to seek out the presence of ancients, the embrace of old wisdom.

I went to where the December sun soaks ocher canyon walls with heat, where no sound murmurs but the trickle of river song, breezes brushing up whispers of spirits.

I went there to be enriched by the lack of riches.

To climb a ladder and crawl into a cave and stare out through a sacred circle of blue sky.

I walked, carrying on my back my sustenance.
Come midday with the sun warming my neck, I sat on a bench among tall Ponderosa pines. Giving a turn of my thermos lid, I dug deeply with a spoon into my warm vessel of now nourishing — rather than tear-inducing — lentils.

As I sat there eating in silence, I noticed a jolting movement in the grey brown woods around me.

I had my first meltdown a couple of weeks ago since I moved here. It just kind of all hit at once. Not the same things, but depressing nonetheless. And then my friend and I went to Olympic NP that weekend, and walking in the trees made things better.

May you continue to find joy in place and with your loving pup for as long as possible.

Living on the busy East Coast, it’s often difficult to get centered. Daily responsibilities and stresses make “finding nature” essential. Fortunately we find this release in the Catskill Mountains where we have a small getaway.
I found so much comfort in the thoughts you shared here. Not a blog reader really but always have enjoyed your art on IG. I’ll be keeping an eye out for more. BTW, visited Bandelier back in September. The experience was profound. Be well.

Thank you so much for your beautiful comments and reflections here — and for taking the time to read my musings, esp. as you’re “not a blog reader.” 🙂

And yes — those New York mountains are pretty special…
Although a bit further north from your beloved Catskills, a couple of years ago I decided to take “the road less traveled” on my way from VT to NM, and found myself driving the back roads of the Adirondacks. That section through New York was one of the most beautiful drives I’ve ever made.

I’m so glad your travels out here led you to Bandelier. Profound indeed. I only live an hour from that sacred canyon, and yet I allowed years to go by before visiting it again this year. My recent trip last week was my 2nd visit this year. I’m now thinking it needs to become at least a monthly pilgrimage.

Thanks again for reading & writing. Peace to you — and Happy Holidays!

Thank you Dawn. My parents passed a week apart in 2016. I’ve been getting by with bouts of melancholy. I’ve been looking for a reason to go back to bed today – humming in my brain that old song, “Make the world go away…” I’m going to get moving. I’ve got a couple of hours to drive to celebrate a young man become an Eagle Scout!

I’m so sorry about your parents; I can hardly imagine the sorrow of losing two dear ones so immediately.

When bed calls as an escape from the world, listen for your better angels — they’re the ones urging, “Rise up! Rise up! Seize the day!” Surely they’re the ones who led me to Bandelier to be reminded of the beauty found in stillness and the small tender joys of watching birds
And surely they’re the ones, too, who led you out the door to celebrate that brilliant achievement of that young man.

Beautiful Dawn. Nature knows all and cures all. She is amazing. (I haven’t watched the news for nearly 2 years. Too much violence & unkindness in the world. I like being in my Nature bubble ) Lots of love, light and blessings.

Thank you so much, Bec, for taking time from your own busy art-making to read and comment on my musings here.

I, too, have scaled back my news consumption dramatically. While I value being “informed” so much of the “information” out there is bad news. I’ve decided a better use of my time is focusing on beauty, and the things that unite rather than divide us.

Thank you, dear Sole Sister. Come to think of it, you should be well acquainted with my parents, for they (along with you) helped get my tired butt across some of those death-defying rock faces on Mt. Mansfield! ;D